I was staying at a guest house in Seoul. It was quite a nice experience, and I enjoyed talking with the different people who would come in and out.

There was one Korean individual, through which I had a very odd experience. A few times he would come around the common lounge area and start talking. Often he would tell me how much he loves America, how much he loves George Bush, etc. Which I found to be quite peculiar, considering that I had not even brought up the issue of politics. He then went on to tell me the story of how a couple Korean school girls had been killed by an American tank that accidently driven them over. He said that this caused a lot of issues among some Koreans – but that he blamed the Korean government, not the Americans, for not building the roads big enough to accomodate both the tank and the school kids. When he said this, I kind of thought he was crazy and being over the top.. He continued for another hour to talk about how great the USA is, and how he hates it when people in Korea criticize the USA, etc.

A few days later I had taken a trip to the DMZ. When I got back, he asked me how the trip was, and I just joked about how wonderful it was and how friendly everyone is it in a light hearted way.

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I had taken a trip to Northen Ireland while I was backpacking around Europe. The streets of Belfast struck me with a curious fascination. As a kid, growing up in the US, I remember hearing on the news of all the issues Northern Ireland faced in its ever lasting war between Protestants and Catholics. It seemed like such a remote, far off place, and a place I did not know much about.

By the time I went there about a year and a half ago, the troubles had long died down, though there is a still a real tension that can be readily felt. I remember once I was taking a tour of Derry, and in the middle of it a passerby interupted and started shouting at the tourguide for giving us the wrong interpretation of history.

Symbolically, one can see this tension through the fact that in many neighborhoods, there are still huge mass murals glorifying masked gunmen, etc. And these murals often glorify one side and demonize the other.

I was walking through a protestant neighborhood taking photos of the different murals, which in some strange way interested me. I figured that in 20 years from now, it is likely that these won’t be there – perhaps and hopefully just relics of the past. I felt like I was photographing an anachronism, something that shouldn’t be there, and one day won’t be there.

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I was staying in New Delhi, and took a day tour to the Taj Mahal. On the way home, the tour guide stopped off at a “Marble Factory” (i.e., store where he earns commission for whatever sales are made from bringing us in). The owner of the factory comes out to greet us, and takes us on an initial tour of the facilities before depositing us into the sales room. Proudly, as he is guiding through his factory, he points out his various workers, diligently working on the production of various products out of the marble. The only thing is, his workers all appeared to be around 8 years old. Initially I was completely appalled by this. How can the owner of the factor seem to be so proud, at a bunch of children slaving away doing dangerous work. It seemed more embarrassing than anything else. Part of me felt extremely disguested.

Surprisingly, some of the other Westerners that were with me would go on to purchase various marble products when we were sent to the showroom. It is if I was the only person who even thought something might be a little off kilter with the whole situation.

But now, in hindsite, I think we can’t be that judgemental. After all, many of the products we consume are likely produced under such circumstances. We know about it intellectually, but choose to ignore it. And if it was right in front of our faces, perhaps most people would still create some rationalizion for it in their head, such as “well at least they have jobs”, etc. I am sure those that went on to purchase various marble products in the showroom right after seeing the children slaving away, either simply did not care, or formulated their own rationalizations.

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I was staying in Osaka, and one night I took a walk. On the way back to the hotel I was staying at, I stopped at a small stand which served fried octopus and beer. There were a few chairs there, so I took a seat and decided to have a drink.

There was an older man sitting next to me who was talking with some of his friends. He barely spoke a word of english, but every now and then we tried to make conversation.

One drink became many drinks, and I also ate quite a bit too. After several hours of eating, drinking, and conversing in a very primitive way, I went to pay my bill.

Apparently the man sitting next to me was either the owner or a good friend of the owner, because when I went to pay he refused to let me. I imagined the bill should have been at least 2,000 yen (around $20). I started arguing over this, till finally he relented and told me in very broken English that I owe 100 yen (about the equivalent of $1). I argued with him saying there was no way its 100 yen, and kept trying to give him a couple 1,000 yen notes…when I realized he would not take no for an answer, I relented and said “Arigato!”.

And he kept saying over and over again in broken English “Enjoy Osaka! Enjoy Osaka!” I will never forget this man’s small act of kindness, the memory of which will remain with me for a lifetime.

I was visiting a budhist temple / shrine in Phnom Phen, Cambodia. There were a long set of stairs I had to walk up in order to get to the pagoda. As I approached the top of the stairs, on the way down for a split second I locked eyes with a Cambodian lady, who had a look of absolute horror. I will never forget the look on her eyes, like she had just taken a glimpse into some kind of hell.

This made my mind wonder, what is at the top, that gave this woman that look? What mystery lurked slightly beyond the concrete steps? In those brief few seconds as I continued walking up, those were the thoughts which entered my mind.

Finally, when I reached the top, what I saw gave me an absolute sense of horror.

There were several beggars, but they were not ordinary beggars. They were perhaps the most deformed human beings I have ever seen in my life. The men were missing arms, legs, eyes. There was absolutely no way that they could ever earn a living or do anything for that matter, and are completely at the mercy of others.

Which made my mind wonder again, how did these men become that way? They looked like they were in their 50s. So I came to the conclusion that they were most likely victims of the Khmer Rouge. I had read books about the history of the Khmer Rouge, and of survivors of that regime. But to take a glimpse at these souls. Only an act of pure evil could do such a thing to another human being.